Maybe(Look Into My Eyes)
by KayciaWeasley
Summary: Maybe. A word such as this could wipe out an entire existence. Well, that's what Joly thinks.


Maybe it's the way she walked into the café with such a marvelous triumph that it made everyone duck and shield their eyes from the blinding light. Even the Musain couldn't be barricaded from her beauty.

Maybe it's the way she looked at him, those dark amber orbs glistening from the light of the small window by the back door, that made him feel like a revolution was unnecessary at the moment.

Maybe it's the way he looked at her, his silvery eyes darting back and forth from her and Enjolras, wondering if he should abandon the Cause.

Maybe it's the way he asked what her name was, with such sincerity it was like giving perspective to a stranger.

Musichetta.

Maybe it meant "musician". Maybe it meant "angel". Maybe it meant both.

Such feelings as love can _really_ wipe out an entire existence.

Maybe out of all his disbelieving, holding on was the easiest part.

Maybe this girl, the one with the perfect dark hair that was flowing behind her in a heavenly motion, was the person he had been holding on to _before_ the revolution. So why had no one noticed?

Maybe love isn't so easy after all. But feeling that awful hypochondria melt away at the sight of her, _that_ is love. Nothing can be more powerful than the strike of a gaze.

Maybe it's the way she listened. This is strange, in a sense, but watching her nod her head with defiance to Combeferre's speech and drink in every word he said was a gorgeous to behold.

Marius told him once that maybe we start to fall in love right as we look into one another's eyes. It's a beautiful world, isn't it? But the song of the heart can either be grievous or joyful for the same reason.

Maybe it's the way he handed a chair to her to add to the barricade and when their hand brushed, he could finally see in color.

Maybe it's the way he just _imagined all of that._ But still, there she was, standing in front of him.

They still looked into each other's eyes, as if he saw topaz and she saw diamonds.

In that one moment, he saw everything. He saw anxious trips to Luxembourg Park, sleepless nights, everything.

We all know the best things aren't supposed to come easily, don't we? Well, maybe this was different.

They stayed like this for a while staring into the "abyss", as 'Ferre would call it. Is this what falling in love looks like? Facing the one you are crashing towards and constantly, inwardly, wanting to be noticed? Maybe they both didn't notice, but everyone else in the room saw sparks.

He already knew that everyone saw love differently. Combeferre loved science. Enjolras loved France. Bossuet knew how he loved when it was the only time he had ever had anything lucky happen in his whole life.

Maybe he saw love as the wonderful fortune-teller eyes in front of him. Because that's all it takes. Look into someone's eyes. Then you'll know.

How comforting it is to see the passion flaming in someone's gaze. Sight is a love language. Maybe if he smiled...

She smiled back. The light of that graceful motion was like listening to a heartbeat of someone who was before unconscious. Oh, the things you lose from not acting upon a thought.

Maybe this is getting out of hand. Maybe she didn't even register the interaction.

Maybe love is confusing. Maybe love is staring at her while she sits down to listen to the debate between Bahorel and Courfeyrac. Maybe.

It took the next few days to come to his senses, but he saw her again, all he knew was washed away in a hurricane of beautiful frustration. What could be better?

She was always there, like an itch that wouldn't go away, although he didn't mind it.

The next time they saw each other, she was staring at him. Maybe love at first sight does exist.

And of course, life goes on. They both go their own way, and time stops when they cross paths. And of course, they both hear what they don't want to hear. Whispers and shouts along the city streets that echo their anxiety about the enigmatic personality of the both of them.

Words go round and round as they always will.

 _Maybe I have a chance,_ he thinks.

"Maybe," she whispers aloud.

 **I don't know, something like that. PM me or review if you liked it and want me to write more stuffs like dis. Peace out;)**


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